Jingle Bats
by Cobwebbs
Summary: Damian can not understand the purpose of Christmas. What is it that Grayson want him to see in this insipid little Holiday? Maybe it'll take the last person Damian ever thought to have any kind of sentiments to show him what Christmas means to those less privileged than himself. Although Damian has to admit, he never really thought about underprivileged people like that before.


**Dunno, just wanted to write a random holiday shot. The basic point is Damian not understanding the point of Christmas and thinking everyone is stupid for condoning the holiday. Cuz you know, he's an assassin and all that.**

 **Set in a mix of before N52 and after. Dick being batman and Red robin still living at the manor is before, Jason being relatively ok with them is after. Only reason I like N52 for by the way. Cuz Jason . . .**

 **Anyway, hope somebody enjoys this. I wasn't sure how to end it. If you guys have a better idea let me know. I might change it and if you want I'll credit you.**

 **Happy whatever you celebrate!**

* * *

"This is ridiculous!" Ten year old Damian Wayne _wasn't_ whining. No, he _never_ whined, he was _above_ that. He was merely voicing his strong disapproval for another one of Grayson's idiotic ideas.

"Come one Dami, stop _whining._ This is for charity, to raise money for those less fortunate than yourself," Damian growled, he wasn't _whining_ , "Let me straighten your tie." Dick fussed, as he bent down to the small boys level to adjust his silk green tie.

"Why must we do this?" Damian growled, he was always being shoved into situations he wanted no part of. This Christmas gala was _definitely_ one of them. Why couldn't he just stay home and draw pictures of himself capturing Santa and exposing him to massive levels tortures to get the secret of his existence out. Or he could play with Titus and steal some of Pennyworths cookies before dinner. Anything, _anything,_ but going to a stuffed place full of snobbish, moronic adults who thought they knew the ways of the world when they clearly had no idea of anything at all.

"Because Demon brat, your Wayne, and Wayne has to keep up it's names apparel." Drake sauntered by in his nicely pressed tuxedo, his own tie undone and hanging around his neck.

Damian hissed like a cat, a cutting remark on his tongue until Dick ran a hand through the child's hair.

"There!" Dick flashed a million dollar smile, "Perfect."

Damian resisted the urge to smirk at that. Of _course_ he was perfect. He was created to be nothing less.

"He meant you _look_ perfect. We all know your really _not_." Tim snapped with a smirk.

Damian pounced.

Dick restrained him by the waist and threw Tim a disapproving look, "Really Tim? Come on, I need his cooperation tonight. This is really important. Can you _not_ insult him tonight?"

Damian scoffed, "Drake, insult me? As if anything he says effects me-"

"If that's true then why do you always try to _Kill_ me?" Tim was taunting now.

Damian almost tore his face off.

"Tim!" Dick yelled, bear hugging the crazed ninja child so he couldn't escape, "Cut it out! It's almost Christmas for god's sake! Just act like normal people for _one_ night ok?"

Time sighed and straightened from his position at the wall, "Fine, fine, "He surrendered, "Now fix this thing." He pointed at his limp tie.

Dick sighed and carefully put slackened Damian down, "Ok, Dami go ask Alfred if he's ready. Come here Tim."

Both boys complied to their respective orders.

* * *

So _bright_.

Damian bit back a growl. He disliked _'bright'._ Being raised as the perfect assassin and all. His entire existence was made for the dark, obviously this idiotic holiday wasn't made for people like him.

"Remind me one more time Grayson. Why. Am. I .Here?" He hissed, each word dripping with more venom than the last.

"Because Lil D. I said so." Done. Finished. That's it. The way Dick just said those words meant the conversation was over. He slipped a little of his Batman voice in there for good measure. Damian _hated_ when he used the Batman voice.

"Ok guys." Dick turned and straightened his silk blue tie, his bright eyes glittered as he looked over both younger males, "We have to make a good public impression ok. This is very important to a lot of people and can help bring comfort and happiness to a lot of families, so try, key word _try_ , not to Kill each other or anyone else." He glanced at Damian when he finished that sentence, "Deal?"

"Yup." Tim was already distracted in the attempt to find something that would lead him as far away from demon spawn as possible. _Blond and bouncy, twelve o'clock_ , "See ya guys." He waved off and headed towards more preferable company.

Damian huffed and turned towards his would be older brother with a cutting remark on his tongue, Dick was already engulfed in the horror fungus called the female specimen. Five ravenous women in attempt to get a piece of the young man. Damian wrinkled his nose in distaste. At least they had a minimal respect for his father when they hounded him. Not like with Grayson. Hands went all over the place with him.

 _Great_.

Damian decided he didn't need to be here. He decided that a long time ago. This Christmas gala could run along just _fine_ without his presence. He casually folded his hands behind his back and strode with an air of someone much, _much_ , taller than himself through the irritating, chattering, airheaded, rich snobs. No need to pay them any mind at all. _None at all_. Just ignore their piercing stares. Their judging eyes. Their sudden whispers as he made his way towards the huge open ballroom doors.

"Isn't _that_ Bruce Wayne's youngest?"

"Oh my, my daughter met him once. Not very friendly."

"Frightfully full of himself isn't he?"

"I've never seen him up close. I'm _disappointed_."

" _Nothing_ like his father."

 _Whisper_. _Whisper_. _Whisper_.

Damian's jaw tightened just a bit. Not enough to be noticed as he walked. He didn't care _what_ they said. He didn't _need_ their approval. This entire thing was a load of crap anyway.

"Oh my, aren't you Damian Wayne?"

Damian twitched. If Dick had seen that twitch he would have known that Damian was at the end of his already short patience. _Don't kill anyone_. Literal words. Damian let out a deep breath and turned with a schooled expression. A tall, curvy, and very, very expensively dressed young woman looked down at him. Damian hated her instantly. Those cow eyes rimmed pitch black blinked at him.

"Yes."

 _Now get lost._

"Oh . . . I've heard a _bunch_ about you." She gave him a sickly sweet smile.

Damian twitched again, "And?" He was being monosyllabic on purpose. Maybe this _female_ would get the idea and back the _hell_ off already.

She leaned forward. No such luck. Guess she didn't have any brain at all, not like he'd hoped.

"Gotta say, your a lot _smaller_ than I imagined. Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" She giggled lightly, as if that _wasn't_ insulting.

Damian grit his teeth," I am quite capable of this time of night."

She giggled again.

 _Don't kill her. Don't kill her. Don't._

"Daw," She patted his stiff small shoulder, "Your adorable! But seriously, way to young for these kind of parties. What are you? Like eight?"

 _Don't kill her. Don't kill her. Don't kill her._

"That's none of your concern, now if you have nothing of actual importance to say to me, as if you ever could, I'll be going." He abruptly shoved past her, he took joy in seeing her surprised face at the sudden shove. Stronger than he looked.

"What's the matter little Wayne? Don't you believe in charity for those not as pampered as yourself?" She threw over her bare shoulder last minute and sauntered off before Damian could retort and tell her to go to a certain place. Who did she think she was anyway. Incompetent moron.

 _Idiots. All of them._ Mocking his size and age. Idiotic, he could kill any _one_ of them with one swipe of his hands with a freakin' fork if he wanted to! But noooo, humanity had put people his age and size in the 'children'' category, not to be taken seriously, only to be humored. He _hated_ society's placings.

"Hey, Damian? Where are you going?"

 _God damn this!_

"Home." He stomped on.

Tim's eyes widened, "You can't. Alfred's not here to take you and Dick said-"

"Please. I don't need Pennyworth to take me _anywhere_. I can do that on my own. And unlike you, I am not a puppy to follow Graysons _every_ miniscule command."

Tim rolled his eyes. Couldn't he just say, _'Back off, I don't give a damn?_ ' Course not. He was _Damian_ , "Look ok, hang on." And Tim didn't want to have a freaking out Dick when he found out Dami was gone.

"Go away." Damian growled as they neared a busy intersection. Damian stopped and glared. The quick traffic whizzing past him. His harsh huffs going into white puffed clouds in the freezing Gotham air. Tim shivered. It was dark and freezing. Maybe he should have gone back and gotten their coats. Dick would kill them if Damian got sick.

 _It's happened._

"Damian, why can't you just drone through the party? You don't have to actually _enjoy_ it you know." Tim huffed in his cold hands to warm them as he stopped next to the stiff ten year old.

"Because Drake, those peons don't deserve a subject to talk about."

Tim stopped. Wait . . . Damian just answered him? And not sound _threatening_ about it? Weird. Maybe there _was_ such a thing as Christmas miracles.

"Ok . . since when have you ever cared about what high society stiffs say about you?" It was a genuine question.

Damian didn't answer at first. His green eyes narrowed, "Because Father would care."

The older Robin almost smacked the kid upside his head, he settled for:" Are you freakin' kidding me?"

"No."

 _Well. Ok then._

"Damian." He lowered himself to Damians level, _Damn, this sidewalk was cold_ , "You know Dick doesn't care what they say about you? And Bruce wouldn't have either. Besides, it's almost Christmas, don't you know what that's about?"

Damian stared him directly in the eyes. Cold, harsh. "What does that insipid holiday have to do with anything?"

Tim huffed, a white cloud materialized in the air, "God, I'm-I'm not good at this. Ok if I were Dick . . . he'd say-" He thought hard for a moment, "He'd say that this Holiday is about bringing each other closer. It's to help people who don't have what you have. It's to make somebody else smile just a little bit longer. It's . . . the total opposite of what you're used to." There . . . except for the ending, it sounded relatively like what Dick would say. Right?

Damian Tutted, "Whatever." He turned away and headed towards the crossway. Tim contemplated on following him. Nah. They'd stretched their peace lines quite enough for one night. Maybe Dick won't be _too_ pissed when he finds out.

 _Yah right._

* * *

"One night! He couldn't' handle _one_ night." Dick groaned, "Do you even know how many people asked where my 'ward' was? What was I supposed to _tell_ them? Oh yah, he _walked_ himself home . . . all the way to the _freakin'_ manor! _Alone_! In the freezing cold!" He yanked his dark hair in frustration. He'd had _so_ much _fun_ getting that one spun out to sound _believable_.

Tim scoffed, " _What_? Did you _want_ _me_ to drag him back? Get _real_ Dick." He went back to his laptop.

Dick stared into space, hard. Tim ignored him on purpose. Because when Dick stares into space that means he's _thinking_ , and usually whatever he's _thinking_ about Tim didn't like it.

"Why can't he understand it?"

Tim stopped typing, "What?"

Well, he wasn't expecting _that_.

Dicks bright blue eyes shifted to Tim, "Why can't he _understand_ what Christmas means? What's it gonna _take_ for this kid to just . . . enjoy something! _Anything_!"

 _And here we go_. Tim took a deep breath. Conversations like this usually ended up with puppy pouting Dick. But what could one do about it? Tim was rational, not big on faith.

"Because Dick. His entire life has been surrounded by blood, weapons, and not _feeling_ anything. I don't think he's really capable of changing. _Much_." Tim let out a small sigh when Dick looked at him hurt.

"But he _does_ , he _has_ Timmy." Dick sat up and looked at him earnestly, "He hasn't tried to kill you in two weeks, _seriously_ kill you, I mean, he likes to draw and his drawing have been leaning towards _less_ violent things. I even catch him talking to his pets when he thinks he's alone! Come _on_! There's a kid in there I know there is!" He looked very firm on this belief.

So Tim decided not to burst his bubble, "Ok. So he just doesn't get Christmas. No big deal than right?"

Oops. Dicks bubble burst. Now Tim actually _felt_ a twinge of guilt.

"He'll understand. Someday."

* * *

"No Grayson. I will not understand. _Ever_." Damian frowned as he pushed away from the door he was eavesdropping through, he headed towards the front door, not understanding _why_? Why Grayson thought this was _so_ important.

He could do _anything_. Anything at all. But putting this wretched holiday on such a high pedestal just _wasn't_ one of them. He'd even watch those ridiculous TV shows with Grayson, but this . . . he just couldn't _understand_ this attachment Grayson had for this thing.

He shoved through the door. Freezing winter air bit his face instantly. He fought the shiver. He'd been raised in snowy mountains, this was _nothing_. He walked down the steps and out of the grounds in a relaxed manner. Not that he was ever _really_ relaxed.

He didn't know where he was going. He didn't _care_. Not like anything dangerous in Gotham could actually hurt him anyway. He walked down the sidewalks. People shoved past hurriedly, bundled up. Packages bulging all over them. An old man dressed in that stupid get up they called 'Santa' was ringing a bell along the store lines. Damian scoffed. _Why_? What made these morons do such foolish things? For what?

Damian frowned. If this was what Grayson wanted him to do than he was sadly asking for _too_ much.

Somebody screamed.

Damian rolled his eyes. Typical mugging down an ally to his left. He cold take care of it without being seen. _Easy_. He slinked towards the scuffling sounds, another shriek pierced the air. Damian winced. Somebody hit a wall with a sickening crunch. He peeked around the dark corner. A woman was sobbing as a bigger shadow helped her up. The young boys eyes notice the mugger out cold on the icy concert.

"Th-hank you." The woman said shakily.

"No problem. Here, you dropped this."

Damian's nose wrinkled in distaste. _Todd_? What was _he_ doing in Gotham?

"Oh thank you. That was for my son. Here, you can have this." A crinkle of paper was heard in the dark, "It's all I have to spare."

"No big deal Ma'am. Stay safe. Merry Christmas."

"Thank you so much."

Finalle, _Finally,_ she left. Damian waited to see what Todd would do. Would he shoot the guy he just knocked out? Would he just let the guy go? Was he _planning_ something?

"You know, I know your there right?"

 _Crap_. _Damn Todd and his assassin training_. Maybe he should just walk out and drop kick the older male.

"Give it up kid. I can hear your brain working. Does it hurt?" Mocking him. Todd was _mocking_ him.

Damian scoffed and stomped towards the older Robin, "What are _you_ doing here?" He demanded accusingly.

Jason _almost_ laughed, he settle for rolling his eyes, "Planning on blowing Gotham like fireworks obviously, cuz I live for nothing else. None of your beeswax brat." He finished tying the thug up and delicately _threw_ him where the police could find him.

Damian raised an eye brow, "Your in _my_ city. It is my business."

Jason made a show of looking terrified, "Oh My _God_! Did _you_ become Batman when I wasn't looking?" He smirked at the kids livid face and casually turned to go, shoving his hands in his pockets. Ignoring the fact that he just made fun of the brat.

This made Damian _angrier_.

"If you have to know brat. I'm here for _this_."

Damian stopped mid-coil, surprised Todd answered him. He carefully followed to see what the idiot was _talking_ about. What he saw made no sense to him. A hundred scraggly people were lining up out side a shaggy looking building. Most where children. Each one that came out had a box of something in their hands.

"What is this?" Damian sneered.

Jason snorted, "It's called a soup kitchen smart-ass. Not that you'd know. It's strictly for hungry and homeless people."

"Why would _you_ be interested in this? Unless it's the perfect place to start up a drug ring."

Jason ran a hand through his messy hair, "Your _unbelievable_ kid. Haven't you ever heard of, I dunno, good will?"

Now that was a new concept to the kid. Damian gave him a uninterested look.

"I come here every year ok. Nobody but Bruce knew." Jason explained, his hands absently twitched when he said 'Bruce', "And that's because he is - _was_ , a nosy jerk. Me and my mom . . ."

This actually got the kid to look _surprised_.

"Mom . . . only around this time of year did she stay sober . . . used to say if you gave a little, something would come back. We volunteered here every year. And even after she was gone . . . I still came. People like me don't really have much to live for. But this, this helped me find something to go on to tomorrow. Never stopped coming."

Damian looked long and hard at the thin sickly people lining up. Some talked to each other, some where a group huddle together like a broken family, others just looked alone and near starvation. Something _strange_ tugged inside Damian. But he wasn't going to tell _Todd_ that.

"There. _Satisfied?_ Will you leave me alone now?" Jason was walking backwards towards the building.

"No."

Jason groaned loudly, "Seriously?"

"I-want to see. Just to make sure, you're not really here for some drug meeting or something."

"Water under the bridge kid. Haven't you ever heard of _that_ one?"

Jason guessed by the kids blank face he hadn't.

"Fine. Come on princeling. Let's see if you can _stomach_ my world."

* * *

Damian had never been this close to so much weakness. Scraggly woman barley holding themselves upright. Dirty men, barley alive, walking with a corps like air. And so many children, most not older than him. All _lacking_ something in their eyes as they looked at him. An _intruder_ , daring to come see their misery up close. Todd seemed perfectly comfortable with this. Not that he wasn't. . . he just . . . wasn't sure _what_ to _think_ of this. He _knew_ what suffering was. He knew poor miserly people existed but maybe . . . his suffering was a non-average kind. These were _regular_ people, suffering in _regular_ ways . . . and despite what he might say, Damian knew he'd never suffered like this. Never felt this helpless. Never though about this. What it _really_ was.

"Hey Bett," Jason smiled towards a huge woman with gray hair tied up, bent over a giant pot of steaming mashed potatoes

The surly faced woman brightened the moment she saw Jason, "Jay! Hey kiddo, didn't think I'd see you this year. Still running 'round the world."

Damian didn't understand that remark, "Yah, pretty much. So, watchya need me to do first. Oh and I brought my . . . _little_ _Brother_ with me this time."

The 'little brother' actually lost his stone face and gapped at Jason as the older boy casually picked up a dark blue apron and literally put it on. Damian could _not_ believe that.

"Here kid.' Bett? threw him big white apron, "You can do the steamed carrots, easiest thing we got to serve." She handed him a pair of tongs. Before he could even register what the _hell_ was happening he was standing on a footstool behind a big pot of steamed vegetable, serving . . . him, _serving_! Beggars and homeless people. This disgusted him. It was _beneath_ him. It made sense that _Todd_ was all right with it. But not _him_! He was _above_ this nonsense. He was just about to throw off the apron and stomp out when he heard a small whimper.

"Please don't hurt me."

Damian's eyes narrowed. Three scraggly looking boys, maybe his age, maybe a few years older, were surrounding a weak, skinny little girl.

"Just give us that extra potato Baby May, or we'll take your loose tooth!" One snapped bending over.

The girl squeezed her eyes shut and scuttled away against the wall, "No! I need it for Mama. She's _sick_."

"We're hungry."

They yanked at her small arms and pulled her up, she let out a small cry and pulled back, "Let _go_!"

Damian scoffed. _Street rats_. He stomped over, apron and all and tapped one of the bigger boys. The boys turned and were surprised to see the short clean looking kid glare at him.

"Whaddya want shrimp."

Damian rolled his eyes, "Leave the girl alone or you'll be sorry. If you want more food, go line up like everyone else."

The boys snickered, "What? You Baby May's bodyguard or somethin'? Back off." He shoved the youngest Wayne.

 _Big_ mistake. Damian grabbed the offending hand and flipped the punk right on his back. He turned with a menacing scowl to the others. They had frozen.

"Ok, Never mind. Keep your potato. Come on Dave." They grabbed their floored friend and scurried off.

 _Cowards_.

"Thank you!" A small voice squeaked behind him.

Damain turned and was suddenly ambushed by the skinny little thing, she reached up to his shoulder, barley, and was hugging him tight. Damian swallowed, not used to physical contact from others outside of home.

"I really needed to give this potato to Mama, thanks Mister. You're like a magic Santa elf. Are you?" Her big brown eyes looked up at him with a huge smile threatening to crack her small face.

The boy bit the inside of his cheek _. Don't be a jerk. Don't be a jerk. Don't be a jerk._ He didn't even know _why_ he was suddenly concerned over hurting this miserly creatures feelings, "No... I'm, um, just here helping." He managed to say.

Her eyes didn't dull, "Thanks anyway mister."

"Damian."

"Oh Thanks Dami- Your really nice." She kissed the front of his shirt making him tense in shock at the abruptness of it.

She couldn't be more than five years old. And she was a poor sick kid. Starved. And probably wouldn't live to grow up. Damian suddenly felt something he would never acknowledge out loud. He felt _bad_. He felt _bad_ about her suffering. About _all_ their suffering. And it made his gut turn in an uncomfortable way. _Damn Grayson and his bleeding heart. How'd he handle feeling like this all the time?_

"Go on. Take your food. I-I have work to do." He tried to brush off his feelings stiffly. The girl gave him a small nod and turned to go, "Merry Christmas Dami," She called suddenly.

Damian pretended he didn't hear.

* * *

He really _should_ have gone home a long time ago. It was almost three in the morning and Grayson was probably, _unnecessarily_ , freaking out about it too. But he didn't. He'd stuck around. He'd served carrots, chicken, and some strange looking pudding.

Now he was sitting out in the back kitchen, on an old crate with _Todd_ , of all people, next to him. Eating some food Bett had saved on the side, insisting they deserved it. It wasn't Pennyworths cooking, but it was tolerable enough to eat.

"Thanks."

Damian stopped mid chew and glanced at his would be brother, "What?"

Jason shrugged, "I ain't a wordy guy and you know it."

The younger shrugged back and continued with his carrots.

"Didn't really think you had it in you princeling." Jason spoke again. It was only them and it was incredibly silent, compared to the full busy it had been a few hours ago.

This time Damian looked completely at the older male, "What are you even _talking_ about?"

"I saw you with that girl. You helped her out."

"I'm Robin. It's my job."

Jason chuckled, "No. In case you forgot, you're not Robin right now. You're just a brat with a name and a lot of money to it. But you helped that kid anyway. You care kid. That's really something considering you'd sooner kill than care a little while ago. Guess Dickie's really got you coming around."

Damian tutted, "Shut up Todd. I thought you weren't a 'wordy guy'."

"I'm not. When it counts. You figure out what this whole things about yet?"

The youngest Wayne stopped chewing and stared at the ex-Robin.

Jason ignored him, or pretended not to notice the stare.

"Grayson _made_ you do this?" It seemed unbelievable at what lengths that man would go to get him to understand such a **menial** thing like a holiday.

" _No_. I was doing this _anyway_. But he texted me while you were getting tapioca everywhere and asked if I'd seen you. Told him maybe, maybe not. Cuz you know. I'm a troll like that. Then he literally ranted a paragraph into the phone. I was really grateful I wasn't there to actually hear him. Poor Timbers though." Jason went off into a low laugh at that.

This got an eye roll from the young Robin, "I wish that moron would stop trying to shove things I don't _care_ about in my face. There's _absolutely_ nothing I am missing by not caring for this holiday." He crossed his arms and made his face into that look that was _supposed_ to look like a scowl but ended up looking like a _pout_ instead.

"Come on punk." Jason suddenly stood up and yanked the little assassin up, throwing him over his shoulders before the brat could get a cruse out, "Stay put. I wanna show you somethin'."

Damian should have punched him in the back and gotten away. He really _should_ have. Every instinct was telling him to, but for some reason something underlining won out and he let the psycho carry him in this undignified way. If this was a trick, Todd was going to die of a lethal stab in the back. Curtesy of the plastic fork Damian had managed to cling to.

* * *

"Just as I suspected. This is pointless. I never thought you were as useless as Grayson with these things Todd. How _dare_ I suspect you had a little more sense." Demon spawn was not happy. Not in the _slightest_.

Jason had managed to drag him to an orphanage that had morons dressed in stupid costumes all over the place. A huge man with a beer belly was dressed up and obviously supposed to be the figure these ridiculous children celebrated.

"Hang on Demon brat. Lemme show you something." Jason explained, surveying the lively warm area, "These kids used to be victims of a child trafficking ring, I rescued them a while back and brought them here. Hence why some of them look like their missing pieces of themselves."Jason put his hand in his pocket.

Damian instantly tensed, that movement didn't go unnoticed by the elder darkie, "Chill kid. I'm not gonna shoot anyone." He assured sounded a little exasperated, he pulled out a small neatly wrapped box. It even had a red bow in the top, "Watch."

He bent down and stopped a running kid, "Hey Carrie. I got you something, like I promised last year."

The mousy looking girl lit up and took the small box out of Jason's hand. Damian noticed the malformed hand she had then. He watched as the maimed child ripped open the box and squealed in delight at the little bracelet that was inside. She hugged Jason and ran to show all her friends.

Damian didn't smile. He never would smile for something so trivial. It didn't matter. That child was underprivileged, of course something as cheap as a porcelain trinket would make her excited.

"No _way_. Demon spawn is _smiling_ and the world didn't _end_. Miracles never cease." Jason was teasing.

Damian wasn't smiling. He _hadn't_ smiled. It was just a _quirk_ of the lips. No, it _wasn't_ a smile. _Not even close_.

"Are we done." He snapped to cover up his _not_ smile.

"Yah. We're done." Jason _was_ smiling. His eyes had a far away strangely serene look in them. He wasn't in this moment anymore. Whatever was in his head right now was taking him far back before Damian, somewhere less dark and twisted. Jason seemed . . . _relaxed_ for once.

Damian would have suffered shock at that revelation if he was a _lesser_ child. But he was _Damian Wayne_ so, he was ok.

"Tt, have fun with your holiday quirks Todd. Next time, leave _me_ out of it."

He turned and walked out refusing to notice anymore of those maimed or mentally incomplete children and the smiles small nothings got out of them.

He _still_ didn't get what Grayson liked so much about this holiday. He _refused_ to let anything about it seep into his mind. There was _absolutely_ no point to this at all.

* * *

It was dark and freezing. Snow had fallen during the night. It covered all of Gotham in a white pure blanket, as if to cover up its deformities and ugliness for a short time.

A little girl was laying on a bare floor, a threadbare blanket wrapped tightly over her body. A light tapping on the creaky window stirred her from her sleep. She turned groggily and looked towards the cold window. Soemthing was on it. She stood up, carfully to not wake up her mother on the other side. She _was_ sick after all. Slowly the little girl peered through the dusty window. Nothing but dark streets and icy snow. A cat ran past the garbage cans outside. A helicopter hovered over noisily.

The little girl slowly unlocked the window and pushed it over. Freezing winter air hit her face instantly. She almost lost her breath. Nothing outside still. _Wait_. Something was tied to the nail on the sill. She reached over, her blanket falling off her shoulders. It was a lumpy package, wrapped in white paper and clumsily tied with a gold colored thread.

Surprised, she pulled it in and unwrapped it. Inside was a beautiful soft blue blanket and a stiched doll. The little girl almost squealed. _Almost_ , but she remembered mommy. Instead she picked up the doll, her big brown eyes shining, and kissed it. The blanket was soft as she rubbed it against her cheek. A white piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

She picked it up, it said something. She couldn't read. Maybe mommy would know. But that's ok, when she wakes up she can read it.

"May?"

"Mommy," Oh well, she was up now, "Look! Look! Presents! I found it out the window!" Se rushed to show her mommy.

The thin spindly woman looked shocked, "All the way up here?"

"What does this say Mama?" She handed her mother the note.

The woman read it, gasped, and teared up instantly, "Oh May. Gotham's got some heart left in it after all." She bent down and hugged her little girl tightly, the note falling to the floor.

It said:

 _To make a smile last a little longer._

A small robin in a nest was drawn at the bottom, beautifully natural in soft pencil strokes.

"Merry Christmas mommy."

"Merry Christmas Baby."

May ran to the window and looked out side again, "Merry Christmas . . . Magic elf."

The window closed, neither mother nor daughter noticed the small frame of the caped boy who was watching from the adjacent roof top.

"Huh. Perhaps I do somewhat understand what Grayson was trying to tell me." But he wasn't _ever_ going to tell Grayson that.

He shot a grappling line and swung off the roof, pretending like he was never there and that the warm bubbling feeling in his stomach wasn't because of this ridiculous sentimentality.

Maybe Christmas had a point after all.

Maybe Damian Wayne could stand to care just a little bit extra.

He didn't notice the warm smile that crept across his sharp face as he swung through the biting cold towards his own home.


End file.
